


Providence

by AlphaAquilae



Series: Slice of Life [1]
Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Angst, Chronic Illness, Parental Instinct, Short, one day there will be happier stories. but today is not that day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 22:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaAquilae/pseuds/AlphaAquilae
Summary: Guardian has to deal with one of Drifter's bad nights. Old wounds resurface, and new ones are made.





	Providence

It wasn’t unusual for the Drifter to be restless at night. Guardian could sometimes hear them during the small hours, walking back and forth from wall to wall, circling the room like a trapped animal. Their light footsteps weren’t what would keep the knight awake, no. The implications did.

  
One night, simple worry got the better of them. Guardian pushed aside the curtain between the guest room and the rest of the abode. “Drifter, what’s on your m— oh.”  
The room was dim, but Guardian could very clearly tell their guest had reached for their sword laying beside their bed. “—just me. Relax,” they spoke with forced calmness. They hadn’t thought to bring a weapon.  
The Drifter stared at them, feet planted far apart and shoulders tense. A million thoughts scrambled in the Guardian’s mind, dying to predict what their next move would be. Was their stance mere reflex? Will they really attack? They had no reason to distrust their guest yet, though this situation reminded them the contrary rang just as true. If push came to shove, the sword closet was actually close enough to-- No. Out of the question. Whatever the case, this situation needed to be resolved without a body count at the end.

  
Guardian slowly raised their hands. “I can leave. I didn’t mean to intrude.”  
Seconds passed. Slow, horribly uncomfortable seconds, where neither of the two dared to move. Guardian’s breath got stuck somewhere in their throat.   
…until the Drifter’s holo-interface flickered into existence. What do you want., it spelled.  
A small moment of hesitation settled between them. “Make sure you’re fine.”  
I don’t need your pity.  
“I’ve walked the path you’re headed down,” Guardian continued, breath still bated. “It’s sympathy that’s on my mind. That’s all.”  
The old words remain unchanged upon the hologram. Drifter’s pitch-black eyes still fixated the knight, and if they didn’t know any better, they’d think Drifter was attempting to intimidate them. But they could feel the vagrant’s doubt. This world doesn’t care about their kind. And an afflicted blueskin was a dead one. Guardian was too familiar with it all.  
The screen flickered.  
Why?  
A loaded question. Where could Guardian even begin to explain? Because they cared about the Drifter? Because they reminded them of someone they couldn’t save before? Because they know what it’s like, being sick and getting worse? Sure, but it wasn’t the root of it all. Anubis. That’s why.  
Guardian dared to relax. “You would’ve died out there without my help. Be it as it may, no matter what, I couldn’t stand by and watch. I could’ve left you there to rot, but for me that wasn’t an option.”  
It wasn’t a lie. They had no choice in the matter. The she-beast, the Jackal, wasn’t to be trifled with. She was death. None shall pass on without her approval. And the Guardian’s guest would definitely be stuck here for the time being. In a corner of the Guardian’s mind, one that they like to believe non-existent, they found solace in that thought.   
Slowly, Drifter seemed to change their posture as well. More defensive than aggressive. It was a small comfort, but a good first step. If no one panics, all will be well. When the knight trusted the Drifter to stay calm, they looked to their UI once more, expecting more questions.  
The word Why? remained displayed, unchanged.  
Coughs tore the silence in the room asunder.  
Guardian’s hands caught the Drifter’s fall.  
Everything went so fast.

As the vagrant painted the floor with their blood, dark whispers crept into the room like moonlight filtering through dirty windows. With little claws they crawled closer, closer, seeping beneath skin and bone, right unto the soul. Guardian could hear them. Clearly. Warnings, of getting one’s hopes up. Of believing in a tomorrow. Death always wins, in the end, they had to remember that. Keep a distance. Stay neutral. Drifter wasn't here to play the role of a second chance.

Their eyes rested on their friend as they watched them gradually lose consciousness. In their guts, a yawning emptiness found its home. Guardian was a weathered knight, an adamant defender, but this... This, they don't know how to fight.


End file.
